Define the Great Line
by PhoenixNoTreble
Summary: What should have been an ordinary day turns into a race against the clock as Roy learns that time and reality are not constants. With the help of his protector and an old friend, he sets out to rewrite the present. Post-manga.
1. 1 Reality Check

Everyone has a weakness, that one chink in the armor. Roy accepted that. He just wished his wasn't so… _pathetic._

General Roy Mustang, the equally revered and hated "hero of Ishval", was defeated by something as simple and common as rain. And today, the sky itself seemed to be mocking him, as water fell in heavy droplets, splashing on his wool uniform. He looked up and scowled at the smoky gray clouds, blinking water from his eyes. In response, there was a blinding flash of lightning, followed shortly by a low rumbling. Yes, Mother Nature was definitely mocking him. At least he was almost to Headquarters.

He clambered up the soaked steps to the proud building, hurriedly running inside, out of the storm. He shook his head like a dog drying off, drops splattering onto the unlucky sergeant beside him. The sergeant mumbled something under his breath that sounded quite a bit like "ducking master" and stalked off to wherever it was that he was needed.

Roy marched up to his office and barged in, startling his subordinates. There was a loud crash as Lieutenant Havoc fell out of the chair he was leaning backwards in, surprised by his superior's sudden arrival. The unlit cigarette that had been sagging from his mouth fell to the floor and was promptly crushed by Lieutenant Breda as he stomped over to help the blond slacker to his feet. Sergeant Fuery sighed and brought the chair back to a sitting position, while Warrant Officer Falman chuckled to himself.

"That's what you get for tipping your seat, Havoc." Roy shook his head at the scene and flopped in his chair, more than slightly daunted by the veritable skyscraper of paperwork seated on his desk.

Havoc grunted. "You could have at least apologized. I mean, really, Chief. That's just rude. Don't you guys agree?"

His question was greeted by the shuffling of documents, the other officers wisely deciding to keep their mouths shut.

"Gee, thanks guys. C'mon Hawkeye, don't you think that the General needs to apologize?"

Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye, who had remained silent until that point, fixed her steely gaze on Havoc. "I think you need to get to work, lieutenant. You wouldn't want to have to work late, would you?"

Havoc immediately picked up a pen and set it to the paper before him. "Of course not! I would never interrupt you and the General's after hour paperwork parties!" Breda snickered. It seemed that Mustang and Hawkeye were always staying after hours, finishing the work the General was too lazy to complete during the day. There were rumors that sometimes they worked on more than just work…

"I heard that, Breda." Roy began to sift through the intimidating pile of documents, sorting them into categories, when he realized something. "Hawkeye, you cut your hair." Indeed, his protector's hair was once again short.

She glanced at him in confusion. "What are you talking about, sir?"

Roy arched an eyebrow. "Your hair. You cut it." He pointed to his head and made scissor motions with his gloved hand.

"Sir, my hair has always been this length." She then returned her attention back to her own significantly smaller amount of work.

Roy's forehead wrinkled in puzzlement. Then he noticed something… peculiar. He dropped his pen in astonishment. "Your scar! It's gone! How…?"

Riza sighed. "What scar, sir? You need to be more specific."

"The one on your throat. From…" He didn't finish the sentence. He really didn't want to remember that day.

"As far as I'm aware, General, I've never had a scar on my throat. Are you feeling okay?"

Roy didn't answer. Instead, he got up from his chair and purposefully walked towards the lieutenant's desk. "Sir…?"

He tentatively reached out, and his fingers came into contact with her chin, lifting her to face him. She trembled, as years of suppressed emotions throbbed beneath her skin. His other hand gently pressed against her neck, as he examined the untainted skin.

There were no traces of the scar.

"It's gone." He breathed the two words in amazement.

"I told you sir, I've _never _had a scar there." Her voice was quiet, every sense acutely aware of how close they were.

Their eyes met – Onyx and Auburn – and Roy knew she wasn't lying. But that would mean… "Hawkeye… how…"

He took a few steps backwards, suddenly feeling incredibly lightheaded. His vision blurred, giving everything an underwater feel, murky and distorted. How was this possible? Was he dreaming, right now? No. It was too realistic. If it was a dream, surely he wouldn't be feeling the fabric of his uniform rubbing against his skin, or his stomach plummeting as an awful sick feeling spread throughout his body.

He started to fall backwards, the ceiling spinning, but never hit the floor thanks to Hawkeye. She gripped his arm tightly, pulling him back to an upright position. He hadn't even noticed her get out of her chair.

"Sir! Are you feeling alright?" Her voice was laden with concern. She studied his face, looking for signs of sickness. She pressed the back of her hand against his forehead, checking his temperature.

"Did you get enough sleep last night, boss?" Roy jumped, realizing that his comrades had surrounded him without him knowing. Havoc lightly laid his hand on his shoulder, steadying him.

"Is he running a fever?" Fuery looked frightened, like a cornered animal. He had never seen his superior like this, and he didn't want to.

Riza frowned. "He feels a bit warm. Sir, you should get some rest. You won't be able to do any good in this condition."

"No, Hawkeye, I'm fine." He brusquely brushed her hand away, causing her to stumble backwards. "It's all of you that aren't!"

"What are you going on about? Are you hi-" Havoc's outburst was cut off by a severe glare from Hawkeye.

"Hang on, let's let him explain." Breda turned to Roy expectantly.

How could they _not _know? Was this some kind of mass amnesia? Hypnosis, even? No, it couldn't be. The Lieutenant's scars were gone. It was almost as though… it had never… even…

He impulsively ripped his gloves off, dropping them to the floor. He looked at his hands in disbelief. His scars were gone too. The thin lines from the transmutation circle he had carved into his skin, the identical marks from Bradley's swords – were _gone. _This was impossible. This was too much.

Ignoring his subordinates' shocked faces, he numbly walked to the nearest chair and collapsed in it. He held his head in his hands, digging his fingers into his inky hair. There was no way he could have made up the events of the last couple years. Yet they had apparently never happened. None of this made sense. None of it.

He lifted his head and found his comrades staring back at him, confused and unsure. "The homunculi? The Promised Day? The Philosopher's Stone? Does any of that ring a bell?" Blank faces. "Nothing… nothing at all?"

There was a unanimous chorus of "No, sir." After a pause, Fuery piped up, "Aren't homunculi fake humans? Made with alchemy?"

Roy nodded. "And the Philosopher's Stone… that can break the laws of alchemy." This time it was Breda. "But I've never heard of the Promised Day."

Roy stood up, and took a deep breath. "Listen, everyone. I know that I'm going to sound like I'm half-mad, but something has gone _terribly wrong." _He glanced from face to face, making sure they were paying attention. "I'm not asking you to believe me, because there's no evidence that any of what I'm about to say actually occurred. But I'm positive that it did happen."

He was about to tell them everything – about Father, the homunculi, Bradley, Dr. Marcoh, the Philosopher's Stone, the Promised Day – when there was a knock at the door. Three knocks, to be precise. One long, followed by two short raps. The Flame Alchemist froze, blood icy cold. He knew only one person who consistently knocked like that. Even back at the military academy, he had always knocked like that.

The door clicked open. Recognition flickered across his friends' faces, but Roy refused to turn around. He wouldn't believe it. He wouldn't…

"Hey everyone! Guess whose daughter just turned 4 years old!"

**AN: This is my first multi-chapter story, so it may be a bit rough around the edges, but I have most of it already planned out. I think it's going to be… a bit different from some other Royai stories. I can already tell I'll have a lot of fun writing this, and I hope you'll have fun reading. And of course, I welcome all reviews and comments – even flames! – with open arms.**


	2. 2 It's Kind of a Long Story

2. It's Kind of a Long Story

"Isn't she just the cutest thing? You should have seen the look on her face when she saw her birthday cake! We weren't going to let her have a piece until later, but how could you possibly say no to such an adorable kid?"

Colonel Maes Hughes quite literally bounced into the room, completely oblivious to the tangible tension and the rigid back of the seated General. Though, to be honest, the warning glares the officers shot at him weren't that far off from the jaded expressions they usually wore when he ranted about his precious daughter.

He slid a picture out from his jacket pocket, and proceeded to wave it in front of his motionless audience. "We got her a giant teddy bear, at least twice as big as her! She's going to be so excited!" He turned to Roy, who sat unmoving in the uncomfortable chair. He may as well have been in an entirely different world; his eyes were focused on something only he could see, fingers tightly gripping the edge of the seat. For the first time, Hughes became aware that maybe – just _maybe _– something was wrong.

"Hey Roy, are you okay?" He leaned over and placed a hand on Roy's shoulder, giving him a gentle shake. He jumped, and with a quickness Hughes didn't think was possible, pushed him away. Hughes toppled backwards onto Breda, the two of them falling to the ground with a loud thud. Havoc and Hawkeye helped the two to their feet as Roy stamped over to the window behind his desk, gazing through the cloudy glass at the thick sheets of rain.

"Alright, what's going on?" Hughes' soldier instincts took over, his arms crossed and eyes glittering dangerously. "What's gotten into him?"

There was a brilliant flash of lightning, turning Roy into a foreboding silhouette, followed by a deafening growl of thunder. Fuery squeaked and shot into the air; many things frightened the skittish sergeant, but thunderstorms topped the list.

Havoc sighed. "To be honest, we're not exactly sure what's going on either." He paused and glanced at Roy, still staring out the window. "That's only something he can answer. Claims that 'everything's wrong' and was rambling about artificial humans and the alchemy stone, or something."

Hughes took a few tentative steps in Roy's direction, Riza on his heels. They looked at each other in a silent moment of understanding; if neither of them could snap Roy out of… whatever this was, then nobody could.

"Don't come any closer." The two soldiers froze at the hoarse voice. Roy didn't move from his position, but in the murky reflection of the glass they could see the corners of his mouth tremble, and the hardness of his eyes.

"Sir, we want to help you." Riza took a small step closer. "But in order to do that, you need to explain to us what's wrong."

Roy slowly spun around to face his comrades. His gaze settled on Havoc (who had never wanted a cigarette more in his life), Fuery (eyes of a cornered animal, glasses dangerously close to falling off his face), Breda (frowning, fists clenched at his side), Falman (who, despite his encyclopedic memory, couldn't think of a single word to describe the situation), Hawkeye (confused and scared, fearing that the person closest to her would be lost for good) and finally rested on Hughes.

Maes Hughes, who should be rotting six feet under. Not celebrating his daughter's fourth birthday.

It didn't matter if this world was real or not, if he was dreaming, or in a coma in a hospital bed, or even dead. It didn't matter if the world came to a halting stop and reality melted away into a bubbling mixture of confusion and nothingness. All that mattered was that, for whatever reason, Hughes was alive. He was here, in the same room as him, made of flesh and bone, with a beating heart.

To say Hughes was surprised when Roy suddenly hugged him was an understatement. The physical (and metaphorical) distance between them had closed, and suddenly he had let all his walls down, embracing his closest friend. All Roy could think about was how _real _Hughes felt_. _Surely this was really happening. Surely something _wonderful _had happened, not something _awful. _Whatever this mess was, it had brought him Hughes. That made it worth it, right?

-間奏-

After a few minutes, everyone was seated, chairs pushed into a circle. It was like kindergarten, when everyone would introduce themselves and talk about their favorite colors and animals and type of play-doh. Except in this case the circumstances were a bit more serious.

They all looked expectantly at General Mustang, who was staring up at the ceiling. Every few seconds he would flick his eyes back towards Hughes, just for a moment, to verify that he was still there and was still real. Havoc tapped his foot impatiently, waiting for his superior to just spit out whatever was troubling him. Falman coughed quietly into his hand. Fuery fidgeted in his seat, Breda gently nudging him to sit still. Hughes and Hawkeye were silent and immobile, betraying their anxiety.

"It's… kind of a long story." Everyone looked up as Roy began to speak. "So I'll give you the abbreviated version. Nobody has permission to speak until I'm done." He surveyed their reactions, then launched straight into it.

He started with the origins of the homunculi – that despicable creature from beyond the gate, an explanation of the what the 'gate' was, the monster's seven "children", the destruction of the once-great civilization of Xerxes, and of course a brief summary of the Philosopher's Stone - the godforsaken elixir.

He paused, all eyes on him. An eerie silence filled the room, only to be broken by a crash of thunder. Nobody spoke. He took a deep breath and continued onward, the words tumbling from his lips in a rush. He told them everything. Well, _almost _everything. Some things… perhaps they were better off left unsaid.

_Oh, by the way Hughes, you were murdered in a phone booth by an immortal bastard masquerading as your wife. _

_Havoc, you were paralyzed from the waist down and it's most likely all my fault. _

_And Hawkeye, you had your throat slit open to try and force me to perform human transmutation. I could do nothing but watch, screaming your name._

He wisely chose to leave those parts out. _It's for the best._

"That's it. That's everything. And it happened… I swear. I know I sound like a deranged mental patient, but it's the truth and I'm standing by it."

The awkward quietness was unbearable. They fidgeted, avoided eye contact, tapped their fingers, fixed the lapels on their uniforms, digesting their commander's speech. They respected their leader, followed him everywhere, and would carry his burdens and ideals on their shoulders. But this… this was different, wasn't it? Surely this wasn't their commander? Maybe it was his body, but it wasn't his mind… Had all the years of pressure and stress finally gotten to him? Was his mind betraying him?

"Sir, with all due respect, perhaps you should…" Havoc bit down on a new cigarette, desperately wishing he could light it. "Maybe you should… you know… see someone."

Falman nodded solemnly in agreement. Fuery squirmed, but didn't say anything.

"I think Havoc might be right." Breda clasped his hands together. "Those things… they _didn't _happen, General."

Mustang scowled. "Well, what about the rest of you? Anybody else think I'm insane?" None of the subordinates would have mentioned it, but there was _fear _in their superior's eyes – fear that maybe they were right.

"I don't think you're insane." It was Hughes. Roy smiled, just a small one. At least someone believed in him. "I've known you for years, Roy, and I know that you wouldn't make something like this up. You really believe this happened. But… that doesn't mean it did."

Roy's smile immediately vanished. "What are you saying?"

"He's saying that _none of this is possible." _Hawkeye's voice shook. "For one thing, Scar is in prison. He's been in prison for two years now. Cell # 45, right next to the Crimson Alchemist's, who is still alive. Don't you remember? General Basque Grand brought him in. He was ambushed on his way home from headquarters, but was able to get the upper hand and subdue him."

Roy's face was blank.

"And the Elric brothers. I've never heard of them. There has never been a state alchemist with the title 'Fullmetal', and I'm pretty sure I would remember a walking, talking suit of armor." She sighed. "Sir… please understand…"

Roy jumped from his seat, the chair crashing to the floor. "Then who's Fuhrer? Don't tell me that-"

"Yes sir, Bradley is the current Fuhrer."

"But he's a homunculus! He's going to-"

"There's no such thing as humonculi, Roy!" Hughes was out of his seat as well now, spurred by frustration. "Just stop it with this nonsense, and _get with it!" _

In response, Roy's shoulders slumped and he covered his face with his hands. His gloves were still on the floor, from where he had thrown them earlier. He once again noted that the scars were gone, replaced with calloused but otherwise fine skin.

"I'm sorry." Hughes stood only a few inches from the defeated general. "But please-"

"What if I gave you a reason to believe me?" Roy lifted his head, a familiar fire flicking in his midnight eyes. "What if I could find evidence? What if I can prove that things aren't exactly as they seem?"

"Then we would have no choice but to believe you." His subordinates nodded in agreement.

"But how are you going to do that?" Riza asked quietly.

Roy got the faraway look on his face again. "There's only one person I know of that could shed some light on this situation. And he lives in Resembool."

**AN: Now we're starting to get somewhere! Thanks for all the support and feedback so far; I didn't expect such a positive response. So - what do you all think? Is this new 'reality' better or worse? And what could possibly be waiting for them in Resembool? Nothing is as it seems...**


	3. 3 Guns, Cake, and Mice

"So let me get this straight – you want to go to Resembool, a tiny town in scenic middle of nowhere, to meet an alchemist prodigy who apparently works for the state, that none of us has ever heard of, who will have the greatest chance of explaining this… mess?"

"Pretty much."

"This is friggin' ridiculous." Havoc pulled a lighter out of his pocket, but before he could light the cigarette protruding from his mouth, Hawkeye snatched it away and placed it in her own pocket. She shook her head disapprovingly.

"Well… against my better judgment, I say we do it." Hughes stood tall, determined. "Even if it's just to give Roy some peace of mind."

"Wait – 'we'?" Fuery nearly squeaked. He would follow his superiors to the grave, but he wasn't quite sure that he wanted to be mixed up in this disaster in making.

Breda practically leaped out of his seat. "Yes! I say we all take the day off from work and go to visit this Resembool place right now, so we can get everything sorted out with the General!" Falman smirked, while Havoc punched the air in mock enthusiasm. Truthfully, he would rather be sorting through paperwork than involved in this freakshow.

"No!" Hughes put an end to Breda's excitement rather quickly. "First of all, look at the weather! We're in the middle of a goddamn thunderstorm! We won't be able to go anywhere until tomorrow. And secondly, by 'we', I mean myself, the General, and…" He turned to Lieutenant Hawkeye expectantly.

Roy's heart pounded painfully in time with the throbbing in his head. What if she said no? What if she didn't want to be involved any more than she already is? The worst part was, Roy couldn't blame her if she did.

"I'll go."

Roy exhaled, not even aware that he had been holding his breath. _Thank you._

"So what do we do now?" Falman, always the logical one, asked quietly. "Just continue on with our day?"

Roy groaned inwardly. How could he possibly go about his work under these circumstances? He had enough trouble focusing on his work to begin with… He certainly wouldn't be able to concentrate now.

Hughes noticed Roy's uneasiness, the way his shoulders tightened and the shifting of his weight. "Well… _You_ can all carry on with your day. But the General needs rest. It's not like he does any work anyway." Normally Roy would have glowered at the remark and replied with a sharp comeback, but he was too exhausted from the events of the morning to say anything. He just wanted to go home, collapse in his bed, and sleep for a week… or at least until tomorrow.

"Wait, Chief, you're gonna leave us with mean ol' Hawkeye?" Havoc was practically astonished. "She'll eat us alive! You know what she's like! She'll pull a gun on us and blow our brains out, just like that!" He pressed his fingers into the shape of a gun and put them against his head.

Hawkeye leaned in close to Havoc, her eyes narrowed in a predatory glare. "Yes that's right Havoc, you'll be stuck in a tiny little office with mean ol' me." Havoc seemed to shrink in his chair.

"Wait, aren't you Mustang's bodyguard? Shouldn't you be with him, making sure no assassins or humoncu-whatevers get him?" Breda inquired hopefully. He didn't want to be stuck with mean ol' Hawkeye either.

"I'll be with him." Hughes grinned. "I might not have the eyes of a hawk, but I'm pretty sure I can take on assassins and humoncu-whatevers." Roy swallowed, the irony of the statement not escaping him. "Besides, Elicia would be so happy to have Daddy and Uncle Roy come home early!"

Riza nodded. "I'll hold down the fort here. I'll make sure the boys get their work done. Right, men?"

"Right!" The soldiers all stammered, except for Fuery. He leaned in towards Falman, and whispered, "I don't think the Lieutenant's scary. I think she's kinda pretty, actually." Falman facepalmed.

"Okay!" Hughes grabbed Roy's elbow and started to yank him towards the doorway. "As long as everything's ship-shape here, we're heading out! My precious Elicia is waiting for us!" Roy tried to free himself from his grip, or at least ask him how he was going to get some rest while at a four-year-old's party, but it was to no avail. Hawkeye saluted him, her face unreadable. Roy tried to salute back as he was being dragged into the hall, but all he did was awkwardly bang his arm against the doorframe.

After the hurried steps of the two comrades faded away, Breda scowled. "Like Havoc mentioned earlier, this is friggin' ridiculous."

"You know what else is friggin' ridiculous?" Something gleamed in Hawkeye's hand. "The fact that you're still talking instead of doing your work." There was a clatter as all the soldiers reached for their pens and papers, and began writing furiously.

Falman grumbled beside Fuery. "Do you still think she's pretty?"

-間奏-

Roy felt incredibly out of place, a piece of chocolate cake and a plastic cup of punch before him, a balloon tied around his wrist. Elicia had knotted the balloon's string around his arm, so that "he wouldn't lose it." It floated a few feet above him, bobbing up and down as he toyed with his plastic fork. He hadn't touched the cake at all, even though it looked delicious. Gracia's food always was.

The sounds of the party reverberated throughout the small but cozy home. Small children giggled and hollered as they played with the giant stuffed bear Elicia had opened earlier; Hughes had been right, it was huge. A radio played country music, a favorite of the Hughes family. Gracia was dancing with Maes, laughing as they watched the children play. Confetti and balloons were strewn haphazardly throughout the house, and cake crumbs clung to every surface.

It was a small party, the perfect party, the kind Roy wished he could have had growing up. But he couldn't feel anything.

In the wake of the chaotic morning, his mind had decided to cope by shutting down all emotional responses. He distanced himself from the Hughes' family, not saying much more than "hello" to Gracia, and "happy birthday" to little Elicia. It was so strange, he decided, to see Gracia smile. The last time he had seen her smile was the day before Hughes had… But did that even happen? Hughes was here, right now.

His hands shook. What did this all mean? Once someone is dead, _they can never come back. _It was one of the laws that governed the universe. Even with alchemy, it was impossible. Therefore, Hughes had never died. But that didn't make sense. _Then again, none of this does._

Roy was snapped out of his thoughts by a small hand tugging on his sleeve. Before heading to the Hughes house, Maes had been kind enough to drop him off at his house so he could change out of his oppressive military uniform into civilian clothes.

"Uncle Roy, why aren't you eating?" Elicia stared up at him with wide, sparkling eyes.

"I'm just not hungry, Elicia." He tried to smile, the corners of his mouth wavering uncertainly.

"But it's really good, Uncle Roy! Mommy made it! With real chocolate!" She raised her hands in the air in awe, as though it was impossible for something so amazing, so astounding, to possibly exist. The other children crowded around her, testifying the cake's deliciousness.

"It's the best thing I've ever ated, Mr. Mustang!"

"It will make your tummy do a dance!"

"It's so good your brain will 'splode!"

Roy wasn't quite sure if he wanted his tummy to dance or his brain to explode, but he took a bite of the moist cake to appease the kids all the same. To be honest, they weren't exaggerating that much – it really was that good. But he couldn't enjoy it.

"See? I tried it. Yummy!"

"But you have to eat _all _of it!" Elicia spread her arms wide, accidentally smacking the boy beside her. A chorus of agreement rose from the other children.

"Oh, leave Mr. Mustang alone!" Maes and Gracia shooed the kids away from their new friend. "There's a plenty of things you can do without bugging him. Why don't you set up that new board game, what was it, Chutes and Ladders?"

There was a near deafening cheer from the kids as they dashed into Elicia's room. That was followed by several loud banging sounds as they searched about for the game. Gracia shook her head. "I'd better help them, before they completely destroy her room. I can tell it's going to take hours to clean it." She turned to Roy. "Are you sure there's nothing I can get you?"

"Nope, you worry about the kids. The cake's wonderful, by the way." Gracia smiled warmly in response, before making her way through the confetti and wrapping paper strewn hallway towards her daughter's room.

Hughes pulled out a chair and sat beside his friend, brushing a few crumbs off the table. "They're so messy. But I guess I can't really blame them. I was the same way." He noticed Roy gripping his cup of punch tightly. "Hey, cheer up. You got out of having to do any work today! And tomorrow, I promise, we'll get everything sorted out. We'll talk to the metal boy, and hopefully he'll have some answers for us." He took his glasses off and cleaned them with a napkin. "And if he doesn't, we'll just have to find the answers on our own."

Roy took a swig of his juice, barely managing to swallow the red liquid. _I wish it would be that simple, Maes, I really do. But nothing ever is. What will we find waiting for us, in scenic middle of nowhere? A boy with metal limbs and a child without a body… or no one at all?_

_Please, God, if you're up there, just this once, can everything turn out all right?_

-間奏-

"Five hundred sens says that the Chief has lost his mind."

Havoc waved a few bills in the air, walking backward so he could face his lagging comrades. They could be so slow sometimes, especially after a long day of relentless paperwork. Their footsteps were loud and unsteady on the cracked sidewalk as they walked home from work. Thankfully, the storm had finally passed, so they didn't have to worry about getting wet.

"I don't think that's funny." Fuery pushed his glasses up. "General Mustang isn't crazy. He's a great man. He's probably the sanest out of all of us!"

"Remember, this is coming from the same man who said that the Lieutenant was pretty, even when she threatened us with a loaded gun." Falman scowled at the sergeant.

Breda's forehead wrinkled. "Wow Fuery, you have questionable taste in women."

Falman chuckled. "Naw, maybe he just likes feisty women. Especially in the bedroom – "

One could virtually feel the heat radiating from Fuery's face. "What… no, no! Not like that – "

"It's cool Fuery, your secret is safe with us." Breda slapped the young man's shoulder, practically sending him falling headfirst.

"_Anyways_," Havoc emphasized, "Nobody – except for Fuery, who, no offence sergeant, doesn't count – has answered my question!"

Falman and Breda exchanged looks. "I don't think he's necessarily crazy…" Falman tugged on his collar. "I just think that maybe… well… look, he was a human weapon. We all fought in Ishval, but he easily saw the worst of it. He had to watch people burn, writhe in pain… pain that he caused! The damage that must have done to him…"

"But Ishval was _years _ago," Havoc argued. "If it really had made something snap up there" – he tapped his skull – "Then why is it just happening now?" Nobody answered. He turned around and walked forwards again, shoving the bills into his pocket as he went. "Exactly. No one has an answer."

"I'm pretty sure that if Hawkeye caught us discussing our superior's mental health, she'd fire a few rounds into our heads." Breda looked around in search of a blond sniper. "Who's to say she's not following us right now?"

Everyone stopped. Four heads moved back and forth as they examined their surroundings. "We're just being paranoid," Falman stated calmly. "There's no way she'd follow us."

"But what if she did!" Havoc exclaimed. "By God, she'd have my head mounted over her fireplace!"

Breda held a finger up for quiet. After a few anxious moments of unsettled breathing, there was a rustling sound. The men backed away towards the road, in the opposite direction of the noise.

"Don't… move." Falman whispered. "Maybe she can only sense movement. If we keep really quiet and still, she'll think we're gone."

"That is the _dumbest _thing I've _ever _heard." Havoc and Breda said in unison. Fuery decided to take Falman's advice; it was better than nothing. He froze on the spot, even holding his breath.

After what seemed like an eternity, a few strands of grass at the edge of the sidewalk parted and a mouse scampered into view. It stood on its hind legs, sniffing the air with its white snout, whiskers quivering.

"Are you serious? Are you goddamn serious?" Havoc was practically jumping with outrage. "We were scared over a _frickin' _mouse?"

The rodents nose twitched, and it focused red eyes on the soldiers. With an obnoxious squeak, like a battle cry, it sped towards the men.

What ensued was a mad dash to the opposite side of the road, in the hopes that the furry creature wouldn't follow across the asphalt. There were several high-pitched screams, ones that you would expect to hear from a schoolgirl, not full-grown adults. They breathed heavily on the other side, fearfully scanning the road for signs of the mouse, but it was gone.

"Let's never speak about this, to anyone, _ever._" Breda was as white as a sheet.

"Agreed." They returned to the other side of the road, and resumed their walk home.

"By the way, Fuery," Falman inquired, "Don't you love animals? I would have thought you'd have picked it up and kept it."

Fuery shook his head furiously. "Oh no, not mice. They're so… rodent-y."

Havoc shrugged. "I thought we already discussed this. He only likes feisty women, which in a way, are a bit like ani-"

"Stop already!" Fuery was, for lack of a better word, pissed.

The men laughed heartily. After their scare, it was great to be able to have a little fun. "You know who else likes feisty women?" Havoc continued, eyes shining. "Barry the Chopper!"

Silence greeted his words. "Uh, who exactly _is _Barry the Chopper?" Breda stared in confusion.

"I think General Mustang mentioned him." Falman stroked his chin. "He was part of his… I suppose you could call it a story…"

"I guess I just remembered him saying that Barry liked feisty women, then." Havoc frowned. He didn't know anybody named Barry! Where had that come from? To be honest, he wasn't even paying that much attention to the Chief's story until he got to the Promised Day, where things got a bit more interesting.

"He didn't say anything much about Barry, just that he was a serial killer who helped them get into that laboratory." Fuery piped up.

"Then how do you know?" Falman looked astonished.

"Because, I…" Havoc didn't know. Was it possible that the Chief _wasn't _crazy? That this Barry guy really existed, that everything he said was true…

"I need a smoke." Havoc frantically checked his pockets for his cigarettes. He pulled one out, slightly bent but otherwise fine. He then checked for his lighter.

"Dammit! Hawkeye still has my lighter!"

**AN: This was a less serious chapter, and mostly filler, but some important things did happen. I was originally going to make this a very long chapter, containing everything up to their arrival in Resembool, but decided to cut it in half to avoid updating too late. The next chapter - I promise! - will feature a lot of Royai, as well as reveal what's up with Ed and Al. As always, reviews are loved.**


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